The Talisman wrought from mud and clay,
Whom. we give the name of mail,
Is mystery known to God alone,
Its essence true we can not scan.

Since Creation's Early Morn began
Time is engaged in constant flight,
Has tried to leave its trace on mail,
But has not met success e'en slight.

If you do not get, much disturbed,
To you this truth I may unroll
That man, God's image, on the earth
Is neither frame of clay nor soul.

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